


Lies of Omission

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, Singer Derek, Youtuber Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Erica,” Derek says slowly, through his teeth, his eyes still glued to the YouTube video. “What is this?”</p><p>“They’re great, aren’t they?” Erica replies with a grin. “They’ve done gay covers of, like, half of our songs.”</p><p>(Or: In which Derek is the lead singer of up-and-coming band Wolfsbane and Stiles and Scott are big fans.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Co-Captains

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I would like to make it clear that I know nothing about bandom and bands and stuff. Nothing at all. I only know about classical music, and so I have no idea if anything I say about pop-punk in this fic is correct. Please don't hate me. 
> 
> (Also, I apologize in advance for any insults to Fall Out Boy. I actually love Fall Out Boy, but I was trying to write something appropriately snobby for a fake Rolling Stone article. *hides*)

Lying on a hotel bed, Derek lets out a small, frustrated growl and rips a sheet of staff paper out of his notebook. The music’s already there; he and Erica ironed out most of the remaining kinks last night. The _lyrics_ on the other hand…

Of all the things he’s felt self-conscious about, his lyrics have never been one of them. Wolfsbane was nominated for a Grammy last year, and maybe this year they’ll actually win one.

Unless, of course, his writing keeps going as well as it is now. He’s been at it for three hours and he’s yet to come up with something that doesn’t make him cringe internally. Or externally. He sighs and looks at the blank page in front of him, gripping his pen a little tighter as he tries to restart.

He’s got half of a mediocre verse when someone knocks on his door.

“Who is it?” he snaps, scribbling out his not-quite-progress.

“Erica, doucheface,” a familiar voice replies. Derek sighs, but sets his notebook off to the side and goes to answer the door.

“What,” he replies flatly, as he opens the door, glaring. “I’m trying to write.”

“Keyword being ‘trying’,” Erica snorts, quirking an eyebrow at him. Derek doesn’t try to protest. She knows him too well. “I’m here to tell you to take a break. The rest of us are going to try and dig up some dinner. You should come.”

“I’m not hungry,” Derek grumbles.

“Fine, let me rephrase,” Erica huffs. “You’re _going_ to come.”

Which is how Derek finds himself squirreled away in the corner of some independent pizza parlor, watching as Erica and Boyd manage to eat more pizza than should physically be possible. He’d think they’d been smoking if they didn’t have a self-imposed “no getting high on tours” rule. (Although Derek’s honestly a little surprised they’ve managed to stick to it this time.)

“Quit looking so disgruntled,” Cora says, throwing a balled-up napkin at Derek. “You look like that time Laura found your diary and read it aloud to me in the living room.”

“Shut up,” Derek grumbles, glaring at her. “I’m fine.”

“He’s trying to write again,” Erica supplies around a mouthful of pizza.

“Can’t that wait until after the tour?” Boyd asks, frowning slightly at Derek. “We need your head in the game for tonight’s show.”

“Songs don’t write themselves,” Derek grumbles, stabbing a French fry into his ketchup.

“Yeah, but your stuff is always shit when you write angry,” Isaac counters, quirking an eyebrow at Derek in challenge. Derek glares back, but he can’t really refute that. “We only have a week left of this tour and then you can lock yourself up in your apartment and write.”

“What Isaac said,” Erica agrees, waving a fry vaguely in Isaac’s direction. “Your lyrics always sound like they were written by an angsty goth teenager when you’re frustrated.”

Derek tries not to think about the last verse he scribbled out, his liberal use of the phrase “my charred heart” blotted out with dark ink. Across the table from him, Cora smirks, and Derek sincerely hopes she’s not still thinking about the diary reading incident. His early teenage years were not pretty.

“We may brand ourselves as pop-punk, but there’s no way I’m singing anything about your tortured soul,” Boyd says, with a derisive snort. The ‘tortured soul’ bit hits a little too close to Derek’s discarded lyrics for comfort.

“Can we talk about something else?” Derek grumbles, scowling.

“What’s our set list for tonight?” Isaac asks, and Derek shoots him a grateful look.

“I have you set to open with _Anchors_ ,” Cora answers, falling easily into stage manager mode, pulling up a note on her phone. “After that, it’s _Chaos Rising_ and _Night School_ , along with _Co-Captain_ – ”

“Oh my god, that reminds me,” Erica interrupts, her eyes lighting up as she fumbles for her phone. “I’ve gotta show you guys something.”

She pulls up something on her phone and cranks up the volume, before shoving it towards Derek. He squints at the small screen as Boyd, Isaac, and Cora crowd around him to get a look, too. It’s a YouTube video, that much Derek can tell, and the title reads: **Scott & Stiles | Co-Captain | Wolfsbane Cover**. Derek can’t help but frown a little – Erica doesn’t usually listen to covers of their own music.

There are two young adults (teenagers?) on screen in the video, sprawled out on a worn, cream-colored couch. The one with the slightly crooked jawline and tanned skin is holding an acoustic guitar, tuning it with steady hands while the other (pale skin, face specked with moles) fidgets a little as he waits.

“Ready?” the pale guy asks.

“Just one more second,” the guitar player huffs, adjusting one of the machinehead buttons a little more.

“Scottie, we’re already filming. I thought you said I could turn on the camera!”

“Alright, alright, I’m ready,” the guitar player says, and the two of them fall silent for a moment, before the guitar player starts strumming familiar chords. The sound is a little tinny through the less than stellar speakers on Erica’s phone, but the guitarist never falters, fingers running over the instrument’s strings with practiced ease.

Then, the other kid starts to sing.

His voice is low and a little throaty, but it complements the soft tones of the acoustic guitar perfectly. Derek finds himself frozen, eyes fixed on every movement of the man’s lips, soft-looking and pink as they round to form each sound. His voice sounds like _sex_ , transforming the song into something erotic in a way Derek had never thought to imagine it.

However, it takes Derek a moment to notice that something’s off about the song. Or, rather, the _lyrics_.

“Erica,” Derek says slowly, through his teeth. “What is this?”

“They’re great, aren’t they?” Erica replies with a grin. “They’ve done gay covers of, like, half of our songs.”

Derek wonders if it really counts as a cover if he’d originally written the song with he/him pronouns in mind, before switching them out for she/her ones. Not that these two musicians on screen could actually know that.

“Did you sleep with one of them?” Boyd asks suddenly, and Derek has to resist the urge to gape.

“No,” Derek snaps, his face heating slightly. “Why would you think I slept with one of them?”

“The one with the moles is exactly your type,” Isaac supplies, not so helpfully. “He could be passive aggressively needling you for being in the closet.”

“I haven’t slept with anyone since Jennifer,” Derek snaps, making the others fall silent. Derek scowls at their sad puppy looks.

“You need to get laid,” Boyd snorts. “Maybe that’ll get your songwriting back on track.”

“Shut up,” Derek grumbles.

“But you’re absolutely sure these two don’t know you’re bi?” Cora asks, her expression turning serious. “Because if you come out, it should be on your own terms and if they try to out you I’ll kick their asses.”

“It’s just a couple of kids on YouTube, Cora,” Derek sighs. “They don’t know.”

The five of them fall into silence for a moment, watching as the video finishes up. Derek can’t help but be a little captivated by the way the singer’s eyelashes fan out over his cheeks.

“They’re good,” Cora says, once the video ends.

“They’re not bad,” Derek allows.

\---

_Alternative Press (December 2015 Issue)_

**_KR:_ ** _Welcome to the big leagues, Derek Hale. Tell me, how does it feel to be nominated for Best New Artist?_

**_DH:_ ** _Exhilarating. The band’s worked hard to get this far. We’ve come a long way from playing rundown dive bars._

**_KR:_ ** _So, what do you think of your chances? Are you and your crew going to be taking home the Grammy?_

**_DH:_ ** _There’s stiff competition this year. Braeden’s a vocal genius, but I wouldn’t put us out of the running yet. [There’s a smile tugging at his lips – is it smug overconfidence, or is there something more to him and Braeden?]_

**_KR:_** _Speaking of Braeden,_ Wolfsbane _’s most popular song, “Weaponized,” is a collaboration with her. How do you think that’ll effect the judges’ decisions?_

**_DH:_** _I’m very proud of that song, and I enjoyed working with Braeden, but I don’t think it’ll count against_ Wolfsbane _. It highlights our individual strengths; it’s up to the judges to decide which they prefer._

**_KR:_** _I suppose I’ll hold off on my bets for now, then, but just between you and me, I’m hoping to see you and the rest of_ Wolfsbane _up on that stage next week._

_[Derek Hale doesn’t smile often, but when he does it’s gorgeous.]_

\---

They play their show, and Derek goes through it in a haze of endorphins, punch drunk on the cheers of the crowd as he belts out song after song. The only time he falters is when _Co-Captain_ comes up. That goddamn cover is still lingering at the back of his mind and ‘him’ slips out instead of ‘her’ in the second verse before he can help it. He almost freezes up then, but he manages to force himself to play through the rest of the song.

There are no more pronoun slip-ups that night.

However, the next day he watches every single video on Scott and Stiles’ YouTube channel, and then decides that he’s already in deep enough that clicking the link to their tumblr can’t hurt.

It’s a simple layout with a photo of Scott and Stiles – it took Derek about three videos to figure out that the guitar player is Scott and the singer is Stiles – on the sidebar. At the top are a series of links: _he/him, they/them, xe/xem, ey/em, other pronouns_.

On the sidebar, there are a few more links. Derek clicks the “about” one.

_Scott: 21, bi, they/them, Halsey and Blink-182 stan, guitar player._

_Stiles: 21, bi, he/him, Wolfsbane fanboy, singer._

_No, we’re not together._

Derek reads it three times and can’t help but feel a little… disappointed. It’s such a sparse profile – although he does feel a strange sort of fuzziness in his chest as his eyes fix on the “Wolfsbane fanboy” part of Stiles’ profile. Not that Scott isn’t also attractive, but Isaac wasn’t wrong about Stiles being his type, to a T.

And his _voice_ – just the right balance of melody and roughness. Maybe the covers aren’t quite how Derek had envisioned the songs when he originally wrote them, but they’re almost better, raw and exposed, bringing Derek back to every emotion he’d had while writing them.

Listening to _Co-Captain_ was like being back out on his high school baseball field, trying to keep his teenaged hormones in check as Thomas Liu ran drills, skin glistening with sweat, which honestly shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.

But at the same time, an ugly coil of emotion sits in Derek’s stomach. Because this is what his song _should_ have been, but he doesn’t get to sing it that way.

Instead, the world thinks _Co-Captain_ is just another song about a high school jock pining after the captain of the cheerleading squad.

Derek’s dragged out of his thoughts by a knock on the door.

“Derek?” the person on the other side asks.

Derek suppresses a grimace as he recognizes the voice and peels himself up off the bed to go answer it.

“Morrell,” Derek says as he lets her inside.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, tone casual, but Derek thins his lips. Morrell doesn’t tend to drop by for casual chats. She may be Wolfsbane’s manager, but she’s always been content to keep a certain amount of distance between herself and the rest of the band. Not that she isn’t a good manager – she’s excellent. Derek just suspects that she got burned out of the star lifestyle some time ago and is satisfied with staying behind the scenes now.

“Why do you ask?” Derek replies, watching her carefully.

“Cora told me about that video Erica showed you,” Morrell answers, sitting down in an armchair in one corner of the room and making herself comfortable. “And then you had that slip-up while singing Co-Captain last night.”

Derek feels frozen and like his chest is too tight as he wonders how many other people must have noticed, too.

“It wasn’t obvious,” Morrell assures him. “And even if anyone did hear it, it’s easily dismissed.”

“It won’t happen again,” Derek replies, clenching his hands into fists.

“That’s not what I’m here to tell you, Derek,” Morrell says, her tone unusually soft. “It can be very psychologically damaging to be closeted, and no one in the band wants you to feel like you have to make this sort of sacrifice for them.”

“It’s not a sacrifice,” Derek growls, already imagining the scathing hate-mail and scandalous gossip articles.

“It is,” Morrell counters, tone steady. “But it’s one everyone wants you to make on your own terms. If or when you do decide to come out, we’ll manage.”

Derek pauses for a moment, jaw clenched as he studies Morrell carefully, but he finds nothing but sincerity in her expression. Not that he expected to find anything else, but seeing it for himself is comforting.

“I’m not out because I’m personally not ready,” Derek finally admits, averting his eyes. He wishes he had his guitar in his hands, something to fiddle with.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Morrell says. “If anything changes, tell me.”

Derek nods a little stiffly, and Morrell makes her way back out of the room, the door clicking softly behind her. Derek looks back at his laptop for a moment, where Scott and Stiles’ tumblr blog is still up, before closing out of the window.

He picks up his notebook and pen again and tries to distract himself.

\---

_ROLLING STONE ALBUM REVIEW: Formality_

**_★★★★☆_ **

_Formality | Wolfsbane | Emissary Records_

_With_ Wolfsbane _’s breakout album, the American music scene finds itself revising its answer to the question: “Is pop-punk dead?” Although mainstream pop-punk peaked in the early 2000’s, perhaps_ Wolfbane _will be able to break back through. Erica Reyes’ harsh guitar riffs mock_ Fall Out Boy _’s latest pop-saturated album, and remind the listener of the forgotten strengths of the pop-punk genre. Vernon Boyd’s throaty backing vocals blend nicely with Derek Hale’s higher, harsher tones, both of which are bolstered by Isaac Lahey’s expert bass playing – prominent, but not overwhelming._

_Where_ Formality _suffers, however, is in consistency. The album lacks a theme, presenting itself as more of a collection of songs than a narrative. And while individual songs – such as “Weaponized” (ft. Braeden), and “Visionary” – combine excellent musicality with provocative lyrics, other songs – such as “Co-Captain” – fall flat. In fact, “Co-Captain” in particular feels hesitant, a sharp contrast to the harshness of the other songs._

_Pop-punk, as a genre, is unapologetic; yet it feels like some of Derek Hale’s songs are still apologizing for something._

\---

It’s tradition, by now, that Derek locks himself away in his apartment for a good week after every tour. The rest of the band knows not to bother him unless it’s an emergency. Derek’s always been a bit introverted, and tours are absolutely draining for him, being with the other band members twenty-four/seven and performing every other night.

Normally he writes during this time, but his writer’s block doesn’t seem to have resolved itself since finishing the tour.

Instead, he finds himself on Scott and Stiles’ tumblr again. It’s probably pretty creepy, he thinks, how much time he spends watching their videos and stalking their tumblr.

It’s two am, and his eyes feel itchy and dry from staring at the glowing screen of his laptop for so long. He’s running on diet coke and starbursts, and his eyelids feel heavy, but he finds himself staring at the page with the blog’s askbox.

Maybe he’s a little delirious from sleep, but he finds himself typing: _Why are you doing this?_

He hits send.

He distracts himself by clicking page by page deeper back into the blog, and half forgets about the message. When he finally does remember and checks back, though, he’s surprised to find an actual reply.

_weeeeeell, nonnie, scottie’s guitar skills are out of this world, and my voice is fucking awesome, if i do say so myself. but also it’s fun? i mean, c’mon, why does anyone have a hobby? – stiles_

Derek frowns at the screen. It’s not exactly what his tired brain was trying to ask. So he sends another message.

_I’m asking why you use different pronouns. How is being ridiculed in YouTube comments “fun”?_

It takes Stiles longer to reply, this time.

_psssh, everyone knows that youtube comments are shit. scottie and i just do our best to ignore them. and, i mean, for every really nasty comment we get, there’s always a really sweet one. honestly, i think it would probably be better if scottie answered this, but they’re visiting relatives in toluca right now. it was their idea to start this and just – why not? i mean, it’s not like we’re in doctors without borders or whatever, but i like to think that we’re helping people, at least a little. in comparison, bigots in youtube comments really aren’t that big a deal. – stiles_

Derek feels like kind of an asshole after reading the reply. He’ll blame the exchange on sleep deprivation.

Still, it’s different for him, isn’t it? Because it wouldn’t just be YouTube comments – for Wolfsbane it would be the entire music industry, and all of the media. Well, maybe not _all_ of the media, but Derek’s not being overly arrogant. Wolfsbane is incredibly popular right now, every concert sold out, and he wouldn’t put it past any gossip rag to sink their teeth into him.

Derek clenches his jaw and closes his laptop, placing it on the nightstand and rolling onto his back, starting up at his bedroom ceiling. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

Ten minutes later, he opens them again and stumbles over to his desk. He digs out his notebook and starts to write.

\---

_Billboard (March 14 th, 2015 Issue)_

**_K-POP GOES PUNK-POP?_ **

_Is k-pop star Kira Yukimura no longer satisfied with only topping the Asian song charts? Three years ago, after shooting to success in South Korea, Yukimura broke into the j-pop market with her album_ LIGHTNINGキス _, achieving more acclaim from the Japanese music scene than any Korean artist since Girls’ Generation (SNSD). Now, it seems she’s set her sights on the American market._

_After hitting it off on Twitter last January, it appears that a collaboration between Yukimura and American pop-punk band_ Wolfsbane _might actually come to fruition. Yukimura and_ Wolfsbane _’s lead singer, Derek Hale, were sighted together at a popular café in Los Angeles, deep in conversation. It’s not a dissimilar scene from when Braeden and Hale were in talks for their hit single “Weaponized” last October._

_Hopefully for Yukimura and Hale the results will be just as successful._

\---

When Derek wakes up, he’s at his desk, ink smudged on his cheek. There’s new writing in his notebook, though, lyrics scribbled in harsh lines. The title “Parasomnia” is scrawled only half-legibly at the top.

He reads it and it’s… not bad. Better than anything else he’s written lately, that’s for sure.

He picks up his phone and calls Boyd.

“Yeah?” Boyd asks when he picks up the phone, sounding drowsy. Derek looks over at his clock and sees that it’s only about nine-thirty in the morning – earlier than he’d expected.

“I wrote some lyrics,” Derek answers, without preamble. “I want you to look over them.”

“Alright,” Boyd sighs, and Derek can hears the squeak of bedsprings as Boyd gets up. “Email them to me.”

Derek hangs up and then emails Boyd, before settling in to wait.

Boyd’s always the first one who gets to see his lyrics. He doesn’t tease Derek about them, like Erica would, or make sarcastic comments about the angstier ones, like Isaac would. He makes appropriate suggestions for alterations, and is always careful about the more personal lyrics. Derek thinks he’s probably the only band member who actually understands what boundaries are, which is why Boyd’s read songs Derek’s never shared with anyone else.

Derek goes to make coffee and some toast, and just as he’s finishing up, Boyd calls back.

“According to Google, parasomnia’s a real word,” Boyd says dryly, as soon as Derek picks up.

“Of course it is,” Derek snorts, scowling. Not that Boyd can see it through the phone.

“Not sure how I feel about the title, but the rest of the song’s good,” Boyd continues, as if he hadn’t heard Derek. “Really good. I only changed a couple of words to improve the flow.”

“What’s wrong with the title?” Derek asks, and hears Boyd snort out a laugh on the other end of the phone.

“Well, it sounds kind of overdramatic,” Boyd answers bluntly. “And I don’t know if calling it ‘parasomnia’ instead of ‘insomnia’ makes it more pretentious or not.”

“It fits,” Derek protests, although he’d be lying if he said he didn’t understand where Boyd was coming from.

“I guess it does,” Boyd concedes. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”

“I’m keeping it,” Derek replies, stubborn.

“Want me to wake Erica up and get her opinion on it?” Boyd asks, still sounding leery of the song title.

“This band is a dictatorship, not a democracy,” Derek says, his tone dry. “Be out of bed and ready to try putting the music and lyrics together by noon.”

He hangs up before Boyd has a chance to respond. Then, he scrolls through his contacts to go wake everyone else up.

A few more phone calls and a shower later, Derek finds himself ready to go over to Boyd and Erica’s place. They’re the only two with an actual house, the basement of which has been soundproofed and turned into a practice room of sorts. He can almost feel his palms tingle in anticipation of the weight of a microphone in his hands. He licks his chapped lips.

Unlocking the door to his Camaro, he slides into the driver’s seat with one fluid motion, fitting the keys into the ignition. Erica’s always teasing him about how he has the most boring sports car a famous musician can have, but it belonged to Laura originally and Derek can’t imagine ever giving it up.

Normally he plays music whenever he drives, but today the car is silent. Even though he’s written the lyrics down, part of him feels like he’ll lose them if they leave his head for even a second. It’s already obvious as he goes through them that there are some adjustments he’s going to have to make to the music to accommodate the flow of the words, but it’ll fit, he thinks.

And if not, well, he has no problems with scrapping the music and starting over. Erica will definitely chew his ear off for it, though.

Somehow he’s the last one to arrive. Then again, Erica and Boyd do live here, and Isaac’s apartment is within walking distance.

“We could have done this at a more reasonable time,” Isaac says, idly tuning his guitar. His hair is a mess, curls spilling everywhere, like he’d only just rolled out of bed, and there’s a half-full coffee mug sitting on the floor next to the case for his bass. “Like maybe four pm. Four pm is a good time.”

Derek rolls his eyes.

“I still need time to write today,” he says, setting down his own guitar case.

“Speaking of, _parasomnia_? Really?” Isaac asks, quirking an unimpressed eyebrow at him. Derek scowls.

“Hear, hear,” Erica agrees, fiddling with the sound levels on her keyboard.

“As I told Boyd earlier, this is not a democracy,” Derek retorts, glaring down at his guitar.

“Doesn’t mean the oppressed citizens can’t express their distaste for your song naming abilities,” Erica says with a smirk. “Or lack thereof.”

“I let you name half the songs on the last album,” Derek huffs. Apparently it’s rag-on-Derek day. At least Cora’s not here.

“Yeah, and that’s why half the song titles were actually good,” Erica counters. “I think ‘Visionary’ and ‘Weaponized’ were inspired choices.”

Derek wishes he could argue with that, but he really can’t. He looks over to Boyd for back-up, but Boyd just shoots him an amused smile and shakes his head. Traitor.

“Let’s just look at the music,” Derek growls, making the last few adjustments to his microphone. “Everyone have a copy?”

Practice progresses relatively smoothly from there. Boyd’s adjustments to the lyrics are as good as always and no one has any complaints about the actual song contents, beyond the title. Erica does end up toying with some of the guitar parts, trying to fit them with the slightly more ragged tone of the new song, and by the end, Derek’s actually feeling pretty good about it.

“Hey, have you talked to Kira any more about doing a collab?” Boyd asks as they’re packing up.

“Not really,” Derek admits. “I was too focused on the tour and Kira was asked to guest star on some Korean drama. We haven’t had time to talk.”

“Know when she’ll be back in the US?” Boyd asks, sliding his drumsticks back into their case.

“Four days, I think,” Derek answers, hefting his guitar case up onto his shoulder. “She’s visiting her parents in Palo Alto for a couple of days and then coming down.”

“You better get a move on with your writing, then,” Boyd snorts. “Is she crashing with you this time, or should Erica and I get a room ready?”

“With me, probably,” Derek replies. “She said something about me having better coffee.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Boyd says with a laugh. Boyd likes coffee well enough, but Erica gets all her caffeine from Red Bull and Monster. Just watching her drink that crap makes Derek wince internally.

“I’ll try to send you something new by the end of the day,” Derek says as the two of them head up the stairs.

“Only send me stuff you think is actually worth me taking a look at,” Boyd replies, fixing Derek with a firm look. “Don’t force yourself.”

“I’m already way behind,” Derek grumbles, frustrated.

“You always work better when you get in a rhythm,” Boyd points out, which Derek supposes is true. “And the rest of us have things to work on anyway. Don’t worry about deadlines.”

Which is easier said than done, but Derek does his best to take Boyd’s advice when he gets back to his apartment. He finds himself on YouTube going through Kira’s songs, in order to refresh his memory. Not that he really needs it – he might not understand more than a handful of words in Korean and Japanese, but he has all of Kira’s melodies ingrained in his memory after having listened to them so many times.

The main challenge, he thinks, is going to be figuring out how to combine Kira’s dance-pop and hip-hop style with Wolfsbane’s punk-pop lean. Then again, Kira does have some lovely piano and acoustic covers on her old YouTube channel from before she made it big. Derek can’t help but admire her musical versatility.

After about an hour of going through videos of Kira, Derek finds something he hadn’t been expecting: a cover of one of Kira’s songs by Scott and Stiles. He clicks on the link, curious.

“Hey everybody!” Stiles says as the video starts, voice cheery. “So, you’re probably wondering what Scott and I are doing covering a k-pop song. Well, sorry to disappoint, but neither Scott nor I actually know any Korean. We’re still big fans of Kira Yukimura, though – mainly Scott, ‘cause they have a huge freaking crush on – ”

“Dude!” Scott interrupts, their cheeks flushing a little pink.

“Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Stiles says, turning to look over at Scott. “I’m pretty sure everybody has at least a little bit of a crush on her. I mean, most people probably don’t spend half an hour talking about how pretty and expressive her eyes are, but – ”

“Stiles, shut up or I will start hitting you with my guitar,” Scott threatens, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Fine, fine,” Stiles replies, turning back to the camera. “Where was I?” He pauses for a moment. “Right, the cover. So, because neither of us actually know Korean, we’re gonna use the English translation of the lyrics. We had to tweak them a little bit to fit the music, but they turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself. Scottie?”

“Ready when you are,” Scott replies, their lips quirking up into a smile.

 A moment later, Scott starts playing the familiar opening chords to Kira’s song STARBURST. It’s a little strange hearing it in acoustic when most of Kira’s songs have such an electronic feel, but it’s not a bad sort of strange. Then, Stiles starts in on vocals. Where Kira’s voice is smooth and melodic, Stiles’ is low and rough. It gives the song an edge it didn’t have before.

While Kira’s original version of the song always makes Derek feel a little manic, energized, Scott and Stiles’ version makes Derek feel more grounded. It hasn’t lost its energy, though. There’s something magnetic about this new take on the song that Derek itches to capture in his own music. There’s something that Stiles and Scott have managed to carry over from their covers of Wolfsbane’s music and incorporate into Kira’s music, and Derek needs to find it.

He opens the video in YouTube on Repeat, and sprawls out on his bed, staring up at his bedroom ceiling as he listens to the song over and over.

Finally, he takes his headphones off and pushes himself off his bed, making his way to his desk, where his notebook is still open to where he’d written down Parasomnia in smudged black ink. He turns to a fresh page and taps his pen against it for a moment, clenching his jaw as he thinks.

Playful lyrics to an intense pop-punk beat? Or maybe a quicker, electric-dance pace to his usual darker lyrics?

Derek starts to write.


	2. Galvanize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Derek!” Kira exclaims, throwing herself at him as soon as he opens the door to his apartment, her suitcase lying forgotten in the hallway. “It’s so good to see you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no clue how backstage passes work

**_MUSICIAN DEREK HALE’S SISTER AND UNCLE DIE IN CAR CRASH_ **

_Laura and Peter Hale, relatives of Derek Hale, lead singer of up and coming band Wolfsbane, died in a car crash early this morning. Although the circumstances of the accident are not yet entirely clear, at the moment the police suspect that the car lost traction in the heavy rain, causing it to spin out and into a tree. Both occupants died upon impact. Peter Hale, 42, was driving. At this point in time, no alcohol or drug use is suspected._

_Laura and Peter Hale are survived by Derek Hale and Cora Hale. Both declined to comment on the incident. The funeral will be held privately._

\---

“Derek!” Kira exclaims, throwing herself at him as soon as he opens the door to his apartment, her suitcase lying forgotten in the hallway. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Kira, I need to breathe,” Derek replies, but he loops his arms around her instead of trying to push her away. “Nice to see you too, though. How was the drive from Palo Alto?”

“Ugh,” Kira replies, nose wrinkling up. “My legs are cramping from driving for so long. I thought it would be nice to drive, because I’ve been flying everywhere for the past month, but now I’m regretting it.”

“You drive the Roadster down?” Derek asks, stepping aside to let Kira inside.

“Yeah,” Kira replies with a grin. “My mom was disappointed that she doesn’t get to drive it anymore now that I’m back in the States. Also, did you know that your parking lot has, like, five charging stations?”

“You’re not the only person in the building who owns a Tesla,” Derek snorts, taking Kira’s bags from her and bringing them over to the guest room. “It’s the celebrity part of LA, after all.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Kira laughs. “I’m pretty sure you have the most boring car in the parking lot.”

“Do you wanna sleep on the couch instead of in the guest room?” Derek threatens, quirking an eyebrow at Kira. She just smiles and brushes past him, flopping down on the guest room bed. Derek rolls his eyes. He almost misses when they first met and Kira was all shy and nervous around him. Now it’s like he has another little sister.

“I’m joking,” Kira replies, and then her voice goes a little soft. “I know how much that car means to you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek says, sitting down next to her on the bed. “I’m pretty sure if Laura could see me now, she’d complain about me being too sentimental and not using my money to buy a cooler car. She always said that if she won the lottery she’d buy a McLaren.”

Kira makes a sympathetic noise and reaches over to pat him gently on the arm. They fall silent for a moment, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Maybe it should be, considering their previous conversation topic, but Kira’s silent support means a lot.

“So, are you and the others still up to opening for me at the El Rey Theatre this Saturday?” Kira asks, glancing over at him.

“Of course,” Derek replies. “I would have told you by now if there were any issues. I hope your stage manager is prepared to deal with Cora, though.”

“Danny will be fine,” Kira replies, tone confident. “Everybody loves Danny.”

Derek doesn’t point out that Cora is prickly on her best days. Either this Danny person will be able to handle her, or he won’t. Hopefully things will go as smoothly as Kira thinks they will, though.

“I have some lyrics for you to look at,” Derek says, changing the course of the conversation. “I thought that tomorrow we could try to put them together with the music we worked out a couple months ago.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kira replies, following Derek when he gets up to retrieve his notebook. He tries not to stand to stiffly when she takes the notebook from him, eyes scanning the pages. She bites her lower lip as she reads through the lyrics, clearly deep in thought, and Derek watches as slowly she starts to bob her head, humming softly under her breath as she tries out the lyrics.

“I like it!” she finally says, beaming up at Derek. “I think I’ll have to mess with the music a little so that it fits the tone better, but I really like the flow of these. And the title is great!”

Derek tries not to feel too smug about Kira’s reaction to the title. Take that, Erica.

“Would you be okay with giving it a test run at my concert this weekend?” Kira asks. “I know we’d only have five days to practice it, but it would be such a great opportunity to perform together.”

“I don’t have any issue with that,” Derek replies smoothly. “I’ll text Boyd about it.”

“Great!” Kira chirps. “I’ll try to get the music worked out tonight, then. Unless you had something else planned?” The last part is tacked on almost as an afterthought, but Derek can’t exactly argue with it. His reputation as something of a recluse isn’t entirely untrue.

“No,” Derek replies, standing up from the bed. “I thought we’d stay in.”

“That means you’re cooking for me, right?” Kira asks, her eyes brightening. She really does have eyes expressive enough to wax poetic about, although Derek can’t imagine how Scott managed to talk about them for a whole half hour.

“I haven’t cooked in over a month,” Derek replies, but he doesn’t say no.

“So?” Kira counters, a grin stretching across her lips. “It’s like riding a bike, isn’t it? And a month isn’t _that_ long.”

“Fine,” Derek snorts, standing up from the bed and stretching. “What do you want to eat?”

“I’m good with whatever,” Kira replies, clearly delighted by this outcome. “You know I’m not that picky.”

“Alright,” Derek says. “I’m going to have to get some groceries, though. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Okay,” Kira replies, already digging her notebook out of her bag. “I’ll start working on the music while you’re gone, then. Don’t get mobbed by paparazzi!”

“I’ll try,” Derek says dryly. Thankfully he’s never actually been accosted in a grocery store. It’s a good think he went into music instead of acting, he thinks, because while some people invariably recognize him, it occurs less often than he’d have expected. Maybe he should have become a writer and escaped the whole thing entirely.

Then again, he’s always been bad at writing anything other than song lyrics. That was more Laura’s thing.

\---

**_Kira Yukimura @kpop_yukimura_ **

_getting excited for my first california concert!! glad i have @actualderekhale to show me the ropes!! <3_

**_Erica Reyes @queenbitchreyes_ **

_@kpop_yukimura @officialwolfsbane wow, what are the rest of us? chopped liver?_

**_Kira Yukimura @kpop_yukimura_ **

_@queenbitchreyes you know i love you bb ;)_

**_Vernon Boyd @vmboyd_ **

_@queenbitchreyes @kpop_yukimura something going on i should know about?_

**_Erica Reyes @queenbitchreyes_ **

_@vmboyd you know i only married you for your money, buttercup_

**_Vernon Boyd @vmboyd_ **

_@queenbitchreyes …was that a proposal?_

**_Erica Reyes @queenbitchreyes_ **

_@vmboyd ;)_

**_Kira Yukimura @kpop_yukimura_ **

_@vmboyd @queenbitchreyes omggg can i be your maid of honor or has isaac already claimed that role???_

**_Isaac Lahey @idontcarelahey_ **

_@kpop_yukimura @queenbitchreyes @vmboyd don’t drag me into this_

**_Erica Reyes @queenbitchreyes_ **

_@kpop_yukimura @idontcarelahey i am perfectly capable of having two people of honor <3_

**_Vernon Boyd @vmboyd_ **

_@queenbitchreyes i haven’t even said yes yet, babe_

**_Erica Reyes @queenbitchreyes_ **

_@vmboyd you will <3_

\---

Kira fixes up the music at an almost lightning fast pace, and has it finished by midnight. She might have completed it earlier if Derek hadn’t dragged her away for a couple of hours to eat, but while Derek’s never been terribly good at taking care of himself, in recent years he’s learned how to take care of others. He’s still not the best when it comes to emotions, but he can feed Kira and the rest of his band just fine. It’s easier than communicating with words, he thinks.

They try out the song with the whole band the next day, although the majority of their “practice” time is actually spent catching up with Kira. Derek can’t quite find it in himself to make everyone focus, though – he had Kira all to himself the previous day and everyone else deserves their chance, he supposes.

“Who keeps texting you?” Erica asks as Kira’s phone buzzes for the fifth time in the past five minutes, and Derek looks over to find that Kira’s cheeks have gone a little pink.

“Just a friend,” she manages, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s one of her more obvious tells.

“Kira, Kira,” Erica tuts, a dangerous smirk making its way across her lips. “Your face says that this person is not _just_ a friend.”

Kira cheeks turns even redder.

“Ignore Erica,” Boyd says kindly, and Kira shoots him a relieved look. “She’s just being nosey again.”

“Ignore Boyd,” Isaac drawls from where he’s sprawled out over the leather couch that Boyd’s somehow kept pristine since he bought it two years prior. “Tell us before Erica breaks out the interrogation techniques.”

“Is it a booooy?” Erica asks, stretching out the vowel in ‘boy’ and making the word sound salacious.

“No,” Kira manages, fingers fiddling nervously with the zipper on her brown leather jacket.

“A girl?” Isaac asks, quirking an eyebrow at her questioningly.

“No,” Kira answers, shaking her head slightly. “They’re a… them. Agender, I think.”

“Agender?” Erica repeats, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

“Someone who isn’t a man or a woman,” Derek explains, and everyone looks over at him, surprise clear in their expressions. Really, the only reason Derek knows the definition now is because he’s been stalking Scott and Stiles’ tumblr. “It’s a type of non-binary transgender identity.”

“Huh,” Erica says, a contemplative look on her face.

“I think there are also some other definitions for it, but that’s all I know,” Derek grunts, starting to feel awkward with everyone still looking at him. “Google it if you want to know more.”

“Well, are – _they_ cute?” Erica asks, turning back to Kira and testing the pronoun out on her tongue.

“Very,” Kira manages. “And no, I’m not showing you pictures. They’ll be at the concert this weekend, though, and I gave them a backstage pass.”

“Perfect,” Erica replies, her smile sharp. Idly, Derek hopes Kira’s new crush survives the impending encounter.

“Erica,” Boyd says, a warning in his tone. Erica huffs and rolls her eyes.

“I won’t scare them off,” Erica promises. “Or at least I’ll try not to.”

Boyd shoots Kira and apologetic look, and she gives him a knowing smile in return. Her phone buzzes with yet another text.

“Put your phone on ‘do not disturb’ so we can go back to practicing,” Derek finally says, and Erica shoots him a sour look, apparently not done with interrogating Kira. “We want this song to be workable for the concert so your new friend can actually hear it, don’t we?”

“Yep, absolutely!” Kira replies quickly, latching onto the lifeline Derek’s thrown her.

They manage a couple solid hours of practice and mold the new song into something rough, but decent. Everyone needs some individual time to memorize their parts, but Derek’s not worried about that – even Isaac already seems to have the song stuck in his head, and Derek can hear Kira muttering bits of it under her breath.

“So,” Derek says as he and Kira start to drive back to his apartment. “You didn’t tell me anything about this new friend of yours.”

He’s not really hurt – he and Kira don’t tell each other _everything_ – but he’s still a little surprised that the topic didn’t come up last night.

“I mean, it’s kind of new,” Kira admits, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. “We’ve only been talking for a few weeks now.”

“But you gave them tickets to the concert?” Derek asks, frowning slightly. Generally he likes to think that Kira has a good head on her shoulders, but when Kira starts crushing on someone she can get a little rash.

“They were already going to be there – I just gave them a backstage pass,” Kira answers, and while maybe this should reassure Derek, it just makes his frown deeper.

“They’re a fan?” he asks, glancing over to see Kira bite her lower lip.

“Yes,” she says.

“How’d you meet them?” Derek asks, a sinking feeling in his chest.

“Online,” Kira admits, looking a little sheepish.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Derek demands, his tone a little sharper than it maybe needs to be.

“We’ve skyped!” Kira protests. “I know what they look like, and their full name – which I googled, by the way – and we’ll be meeting at a concert, surrounded by a few hundred people. I’m not going to get kidnapped or anything. I know how to be safe.”

Derek lets out a slow sigh.

“Sorry,” he finally says. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not _actually_ your little sister,” Kira replies, her tone firm in a way it only rarely is. “If it makes you feel better, though, I can send you a photo of them along with their full name, in case anything does happen at the concert.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Derek says, fixing his eyes back on the road as he pulls into his apartment building’s parking garage.

“Alright,” Kira replies, digging her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll text it to you now.”

Derek slides easily into his designated parking spot and shuts the car off, before digging his phone out of his pocket. However, when he opens the text that Kira’s just sent him, he freezes.

Because he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t actually need a photo to identify Scott McCall.

\---

**_[El Rey Theater]_ **

**_KIRA YUKIMURA_ **

**_DATE_ ** _  
Sat, July 16, 2016_

**_TIME_ ** _  
9:00 pm_

**_DOORS_ ** _  
8:00 pm_

**_TICKET PRICES_ ** _  
$30_

\---

Saturday comes much more quickly than Derek would have liked. He doesn’t tell Kira that he already knows who Scott McCall is – or has at least seen their face before – because he’s unsure how he would explain himself. The last thing she and the rest of the band need to know is that he’s been obsessing over Scott and Stiles’ covers. He can already hear the concern in their voices, asking him if he’s _sure_ he doesn’t want to come out yet, like he’s somehow tormenting himself by listening to the covers over and over.

Which he supposes he is, to a certain extent.

It’s going to come up eventually, he knows. If Scott and Stiles have backstage passes, they’ll probably run into each other sometime after the concert, and there’s no doubt in Derek’s mind that at least Erica will recognize the two of them. Derek hopes he can just claim that he didn’t recognize the photo Kira showed him because he only watched the one video. Unfortunately, his bandmates know him well enough that there’s a good chance they’ll see through his lie.

He distracts himself with writing instead, and actually manages to make two workable songs out of his frustration and indecision. At least he’s getting something good out of this situation.

By the time Saturday rolls around, Derek still has no plan of attack for when he, Stiles, and Scott invariably meet. Everyone seems to recognize that there’s something off about him as they’re setting up for the concert, but whenever they try to confront him on it, he just glares at them and finds something else for them to do.

In the few minutes before they’re supposed to go out on stage to open, Derek stares out over the crowd from the sidelines and tries to see if he can spot Stiles and Scott. He can’t, and somehow that seems to make the whole situation worse.

Then they’re headed out on stage. Derek closes his eyes for a moment, trying to let himself get lost in the cheering. When he opens his eyes again, he’s pushed all thoughts of Stiles’ throaty voice from his head.

When they play, he doesn’t miss a single note – or pronoun.

They leave the stage to more cheering and when Kira goes on, she brings the house down. Derek can’t help the way his lips twitch up into a small smile as he listens, and he lets himself get absorbed by the music.

“Now, before we wrap things up, I’ve got a special treat for all of you!” Derek hears Kira announce from on stage, breaking him out of his music-induced haze. “How would you all like to be the very first people to hear the song Wolfsbane and I have been working on?”

The crowd goes wild. Next to Derek, Erica grins, high off adrenaline as she saunters back onto the stage, the rest of the band following.

“Give it up again for Wolfsbane!” Kira says, her voice booming through the microphone.

Derek, Boyd, Erica, and Isaac quickly set up their equipment, subtly checking microphones and making last-minute adjustments.

“Now, we only got the details of this song worked out a few days go,” Kira explains, giving the others a little more time to set up. “In fact, I didn’t even see the lyrics until five days ago, so this first performance of it might be a little rough around the edges. Still, I hope all of you enjoy listening to it as much as we enjoyed writing it!”

She glances back at Derek, who gives her a small nod.

“This song is called _Galvanize_ ,” she announces, lips to the microphone, and Isaac starts the bassline.

Derek feels the electricity of the song thrumming through his body as he plays his guitar. Kira’s voice has a slightly harsher lilt to it than it usually does. Normally when she sings, there’s something almost cute about her tone, her voice a playful shock of static electricity.

Right now, she’s a lightning bolt.

A moment later, Derek joins in on lyrics. Normally when he sings, his voice is the highest (unless it’s a song where Erica’s on backing vocals), but when contrasting with Kira’s soprano, his tone seems much deeper. It’s strange to his ears – foreign – but not in a bad way.

For the first time in far too long, Derek really lets himself get lost in the music. There are no pronouns switches that he needs to worry about, and while both he and Kira are lead vocals on this song, Kira’s more prominent in the orchestration. Briefly, Derek realizes that he’s spent so long being the front-man, the center of attention, that he’s forgotten what it feels like to be a supporting piece.

Maybe he’ll have to do this more often, in future songs.

When the song finally ends, it’s an abrupt crash back down to reality. For a moment, Derek feels disoriented, like he’s just been dragged out of a dream. The roar of the crowd surrounds him, getting louder and louder as Kira thanks her fans and blows kisses.

“That was so great!” Kira exclaims as they head offstage, her eyes bright and wide. “Did you hear them? They loved it!”

“It wasn’t bad for a first run,” Derek says gruffly, still feeling a little dazed.

“You’re so hard to please,” Kira huffs, punching him lightly in the arm. “Tonight was a success, alright?”

Derek doesn’t point out that, technically, the night’s not over yet. In fact, as far as he’s concerned, the hard part hasn’t even started yet. He opens his mouth to reply, but as they round the corner, his words get caught in his throat.

While Derek hadn’t quite deluded himself into thinking that he was prepared to meet Scott and Stiles, it seems that he hadn’t quite understood how _utterly unprepared_ he was.

Stiles is the one who his eyes get caught on. His skin looks even paler than usual under the harsh lighting of the venue, each mole dotting his skin standing out like a spot of spilled ink against a fresh canvas. His lips also look redder than they do in his videos, pink and full, like they’re trying to match the sex-saturated tone of his singing voice.

Mostly, though, Derek thinks that the YouTube videos failed to capture his energy – not that he was particularly unenergetic in his videos. Briefly, Derek wonders if it has something to do with his singing, if he’s only able to contain his natural energy when he’s infusing it into his voice instead.

Honestly, the ridiculous flailing thing he’s doing with his arms shouldn’t be even remotely attractive, but somehow Derek’s unable to look away.

“Scott!” Kira exclaims, her grin somehow becoming even wider. Both Scott and Stiles turn to look towards the source of the noise, and Derek suddenly finds himself staring directly into Stiles’ large brown eyes.

“Kira!” Scott replies, their grin matching Kira’s, dimples and all. “Wow, you were amazing up there!”

“Thanks,” she says, and Derek’s pretty sure her cheeks flush a little, although it’s hard to tell when they’ve just come out from under the hot stage lights. “I think it went well.”

“Hey, Kira, are you going to introduce us to your new friend here?” Erica asks, sidling up next to Derek and greeting Scott with a predatory smile.

“Right, of course,” Kira replies, flustered. “Everyone, this is Scott and Stiles. Um, I probably don’t need to introduce everyone else, do I?”

She shoots Scott and Stiles a questioning look.

“I think we’re good,” Scott says, a slightly lopsided, amused smile on their face. “Based on how often Stiles plays _Formality_ , I’m pretty sure we could both identify all of you just by your voices, in our sleep.”

“Hey!” Stiles squawks, giving Scott and betrayed look. “I thought you promised not to say anything embarrassing about me in front of – of Wolfsbane, if I promised not to embarrass you in front of Kira!”

“Aw, I think that’s kind of sweet, though,” Kira replies, and although Derek doesn’t admit it aloud, he’s inclined to agree a little. It’s flattering to hear that there are people that enjoy his music that much.

“You know, you look kind of familiar,” Erica says suddenly, studying Scott and Stiles closely.

“We have a pretty popular YouTube channel where we do covers of songs,” Stiles replies, shrugging. “We’ve actually done some of Wolfsbane’s. Maybe you’ve seen one of them?”

Derek sees realization dawn on Erica’s face, her grin growing even wider, but before she can say anything, he says, “We don’t listen to covers of our own music.”

His tone is curt, not defensive but matter-of-fact, and he sees Erica shoot him a questioning look out of the corner of his eye. He shakes his head minutely, just enough for her to notice, and she purses her lips, but doesn’t contend his response.

“Oh,” Stiles replies, sounding a little disappointed. “Well, I don’t know where you’d know us from, then. Scott?”

“No idea,” Scott agrees, shrugging.

Before they can speculate any further, though, a couple of other people with backstage passes spot them. Derek’s never been good at interacting with people, but he can’t help but feel a little relieved to have a way of escaping any further interaction with Scott and Stiles, at least for a while. Somehow, he feels that if he talks to them for too long, they’ll realize that he’s lying about not having listened to their music.

Even as he talks with other fans, Derek feels hyperaware of Stiles’ eyes on him. It’s like an itch between his shoulder-blades, one he can’t reach and won’t dissipate. Part of him wants Stiles to just come up to him already, to say whatever it is he clearly wants to say, but Stiles keeps his distance, just watching.

Eventually Derek manages to escape the crowd, ducking out one of the theater side-doors and taking a moment to let the crisp summer night air wash over him.

“Your last song, _Galvanize_ – it was really good,” someone says and Derek nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns to glare at the speaker, but falters slightly as he Stiles standing in the doorway, rocking back on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets.

“It still needs work,” Derek finally replies. Part of him itches for a cigarette, but he hasn’t smoked since Kate.

“Dude, do you not know how to accept a compliment?” Stiles snorts, and his posture relaxes a little, although he still looks a little awkward standing there in the doorway.

“If you let yourself get caught up in compliments you’ll never improve,” Derek answers, scowling.

“Wow,” Stiles says, his eyebrows rising up closer to his hairline. “You know, I wasn’t sure if the whole dark, pessimistic thing you’ve got going on was just a stage persona or if it was your actual personality, but I guess now I know.”

“Did you say you were a fan?” Derek asks, sarcasm bleeding into his voice.

“Oh, come on, I just complimented your new song!” Stiles protests, stepping out of the doorway and walking closer to Derek. Derek has to resist the urge to back up as Stiles gets nearer, all too aware of the shadows dappling Stiles’ face, the dim lighting of the alley making Stiles’ pupils dark and wide. “Seriously, though, it was really good. You combined your sound with Kira’s really well.”

Derek suddenly feels guilty. It was Stiles and Scott’s covers that gave him the basis for _Galvanize_ , and he feels like he cheated somehow, like he’s not giving them the credit they deserve. In his mind, though, he can already hear the speculative and homophobic comments if he were to publically promote Scott and Stiles’ music.

“I just wrote the lyrics,” Derek finally says, breaking eye contact with Stiles. “Kira did a lot of the heavy lifting with the actual music.”

“Again with not being able to take compliments,” Stiles sighs, leaning against the wall next to Derek. “Do you wanna try this again?”

“Thank you for complimenting my music,” Derek says, his tone flat.

“Better,” Stiles snorts.

They fall into silence for a moment and Derek tries to think of something to say, a way to diffuse the tension.

“You said you were a fan,” he finally says, and Stiles give him a curious look. “Do you have a favorite song?”

“ _Pack Mentality_ ,” Stiles answers immediately and without hesitation. Derek blinks at him for a second, surprised.

“Not _Weaponized_?” Derek asks, trying to force a casual tone.

“ _Weaponized_ is good,” Stiles replies. “I mean, I’m definitely a Braeden fan, but that song has a different kind of feel than the rest of the album, you know? No offense, but it kind of felt like you were trying to match Braeden’s sound instead of actually combining both styles.”

Derek considers the critique for a long moment, mulling it over in his head. He’s seen plenty of reviews talking about the inconsistency in Wolfsbane’s sound, but he’s never seen anyone phrase it in the way Stiles has.

As he thinks about it, though, he realizes that the criticism isn’t entirely inaccurate.

“I really do like the song, though!” Stiles says, breaking Derek from his thoughts, and he looks over to find Stiles looking a little nervous, like he’s afraid Derek will attack him for the critique. “It’s just, you know, I think it would have fit better on Braeden’s album _Mercenary_ than on _Formality_! I mean, it takes a lot of talent to be able to change your style to match someone else’s, so – ”

“You’re right,” Derek interrupts, making Stiles blink at him, wide-eyed. “About the song being more in Braeden’s style than our own.”

“For the record, I think you’ve fixed the problem now,” Stiles says. “ _Galvanize_ was really balanced. I’d really love to hear you do another collab with Braeden, too, once you have your style worked out a little more.”

“Kira said you were a musician?” Derek replies, hoping his tone doesn’t betray his interest too much.

“Oh, yeah, I guess,” Stiles answers, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, not professionally. Scott and I just do acoustic covers of stuff on YouTube.”

“You have a good insight about music,” Derek says.

“Uh, thanks,” Stiles replies, his cheeks flushing a little. “I mean, it’s probably just because I listen to your music too much, though.”

“Now who can’t take a compliment?” Derek snorts, arching an eyebrow at Stiles.

“Touché,” Stiles laughs, a small smile on his lips.

“So, do you have any other critiques you’d like to give me?” Derek asks, leaning back against the brick wall behind him.

“You really wanna hear them?” Stiles replies, sounding surprised, but there’s also a hint of eagerness in his tone.

“Just because I listen to them doesn’t mean I’m going to actually change anything about my music,” Derek snorts.

“Ture,” Stiles says, moving to lean against the wall next to Derek, the dim yellow light of the streetlight drawing harsh lines on his face and making his eyes look much darker than in the theater.

Derek isn’t entirely sure how long they talk for. Some of Stiles’ points he agrees with, and others he doesn’t, but he finds himself captivated, drawn in by Stiles’ energy and passion. Stiles doesn’t hesitate to say what he believes and has a sense of self that Derek can’t help but be a little jealous of.

“Okay, I can kind of see your point, but in the long run – ” Stiles says, but he’s cut off by the shrill ringing of Derek’s cellphone.

Derek grimaces, digging it out of his pocket and answering it with a curt, “Yes?”

“Dude, where are you?” Boyd asks. “You didn’t leave already, did you?”

“No, I’m still here,” Derek replies. He checks his watch and is surprised to find that it’s almost one in the morning. Normally he tries to leave concerts by midnight. “I got… distracted.”

“Alright, well Kira was looking for you. Apparently you’re her ride,” Boyd says. “Also, her friend Scott was looking for the guy they came in with. Stiles, I think.”

“He’s with me,” Derek replies, realizing a moment too late that maybe he shouldn’t have admitted that.

On the other end of the line, Boyd’s quiet for a long moment.

“You better know what you’re doing, Derek,” Boyd finally says, his tone carefully neutral.

“We were just talking music,” Derek replies. He glances over at Stiles who quickly averts his eyes, and he can’t help but wonder what conclusions Stiles is drawing from this conversation.

“Alright,” Boyd says. “Kira wants you to meet her in the green room.”

“I’ll be there,” Derek sighs, and hangs up. Then he turns to Stiles and says, “Your friend is looking for you.”

“Scott?” Stiles asks, pulling his own phone out of his pocket. His eyes widen a little as he sees the time. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was that late. Sorry for taking up all your time. When I start talking about music, there’s no stopping me.”

“It was good talking to you,” Derek says.

He’s surprised to find that he actually means it. He might even have to figure out a way to talk to Stiles more.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how long it will be between updates, so **please don't demand updates**. Read at your own risk.


End file.
